CHAPTER TWO
The trip from Yorkshire to London was a long one. Anne didn’t mind, she liked looking out the coach window at the changing scenery, but Miss Bonteen – who was 45, not 19, and who suffered from motion sickness – found the trip exhausting. Anne, apprehensive about her proposed London stay, wished the trip would last longer. Miss Bonteen felt very much the opposite, and was extremely relieved when their carriage finally came to rest in a large garden square with four sides of elegant town houses surrounding it. Anne put her arm around Miss Bonteen as a footman came down the front steps with a stool so they could alight.
“We’re here, Bonny,” she said encouragingly. “You’ll feel better once you have some tea.”
The coach door opened and Miss Bonteen alighted in a less than graceful fashion. Anne followed and the two women followed the footman up to the front door, where a butler was standing to greet them.
“I’m afraid Lady Moresack is not here to greet you, my lady,” he said to Anne, his voice a deep rumble. “We did not know the precise time of your arrival and she has gone out. I will send for Mrs. Cole, the housekeeper, and she will show you to your rooms.”
“Thank you,” Anne replied in her clear young voice. “My companion, Miss Bonteen, is feeling ill from the long ride. Would it be possible to have some tea sent up to her?”
“Of course, my lady. I will arrange it.”
In due course the housekeeper arrived, and the two newcomers passed through the large hall to the staircase and thence to the upper floors where their rooms were located. “We have put you in the yellow room, my lady,” Mrs. Cole said. “Miss Bonteen has the room beside it.”
“I would like to see Miss Bonteen made comfortable first, Mrs. Cole,” Anne said. “She is not a good traveler and we have come all the way from Yorkshire.”
Mrs. Cole took charge and Anne was relieved to see her friend tucked up with a cup of tea at hand should she want one.
Anne’s own room was pretty, with a white painted fireplace and a thick Persian rug on the floor. Everything looked so well kept. It made Anne realize more sharply how dilapidated her own home had become.
A maid came in to unpack Anne’s bags, and she stood at the window while the girl worked, surveying the houses that were grouped around the central garden. They were substantial dwellings, many of them built of brown brick with red dressings. The afternoon light was pouring in through Anne’s bedroom window and the gated garden was greening in the early spring weather. Anne smiled at the garden. She was excited to be in London, but she would miss springtime in the country.
When the maid had finished, Anne thanked her. She was just planning to step next door to see how Miss Bonteen was faring when a light knock came upon her door. It opened to reveal a well-dressed woman who said, “May I come in? I’m your Aunt Julia!”
Anne smiled warmly. “Of course you can come in!”
The countess not only came in, she opened her arms and Anne, after a brief hesitation, went to be hugged. The countess was smaller than Anne, and she smelled divine. When she allowed Anne to step back, she looked up at her and clapped her hands. “But you’re lovely! That will make my job easier.”
Anne didn’t know how to answer, so she simply smiled and said, “Thank you, my lady, for your great kindness to me.”
“Tut, tut,” her mother’s cousin said. “I am delighted to have a daughter, even if she is borrowed. And I was very fond of your mother.” She tilted her head. “You have her eyes – those great dark, long-lashed eyes we were all so jealous of when we were young.”
Anne, who had no memory of her mother, was delighted to hear her being spoken of with such familiarity. “I didn’t know she had brown eyes, my lady. My father doesn’t ever speak of her, and she never had a portrait painted.”
“Your father.” Lady Moresack pinched up her mouth. “Well, never mind. You must come downstairs and take tea with me. And please call me ‘Aunt Julia.’ She gave a little skip and smiled. “I am so happy to have you here, Anne. We are going to have such fun!”
# # #
The following week flew by as Aunt Julia took Anne on a whirlwind shopping trip up and down Bond Street. Anne hadn’t been surprised when her aunt proclaimed the clothes she had brought with her to be totally unsuitable for London. She was stunned, however, when she saw the exorbitant prices that were being asked for the new dresses, hats, gloves, shoes, shawls, riding habit, etc. She hoped her father was paying for some of this, that it was not all coming out of Aunt Julia’s purse. She assuaged her guilt by telling herself that Aunt Julia loved having a daughter, if only temporary, for whom she could buy beautiful clothing and sponsor her come-out. And, Anne knew it would cause no financial hardship as Aunt Julia had loads of money.
Anne’s first introduction to London society would be at a ball given by Lord and Lady Althorpe. “Maria Althorpe is a friend of mine,” Lady Moresack said with obvious pride. “She is very high in the instep, you know, but when I asked her if I could bring you she was charmingly accommodating.”
Anne had not met many ladies of fashion in her young life. In fact, she had never met any, and the coming ball was making her nervous. Miss Bonteen had taken her to a few assemblies in the local village, but that was the extent of her dancing experience. She greatly feared she wouldn’t measure up to the standard of Lady Althorpe. And what if no one asked her to dance?
That particular fear was relieved when Lady Moresack’s youngest son, Jeremy, paid a visit to his mother. He had come down from Oxford only last year, and he lived in some pleasant rooms that looked onto St. James Park. He had groaned when his mother told him she expected him to attend the Althorpe ball, but when he met Anne he changed his mind. He thought she was very pretty and very nice, and he assured her he’d dance with her and would find some other fellows to dance with her as well.
On the evening of the ball Anne stood looking into the pier glass mirror in her bedroom hardly believing what she saw. She looked elegant. She looked sophisticated. She looked like she might even belong at a London ball. Her dress was simple and graceful, a pale blue gauze worn over an underdress of white satin. Her mass of dark hair was gathered into a high knot with strands curling on her long neck. Aunt Julia had lent her a pearl necklace and earrings (Anne’s father had sold all her mother’s jewelry long ago), and she wore soft little slippers to match the dress.
I look so much older, she thought, as she gazed at this new self. She was accustomed to wearing riding clothes and old frocks. The few dinner dresses she owned were childish compared with the elegant gown she was wearing now. And when she came down the stairs, and Jeremy looked up and exclaimed, “You look beautiful, cuz!” she thought, for the first time since her father proposed this mad scheme, that perhaps someone might marry her after all.
# # #
There was a line of carriages several blocks long waiting to get into the Althorpe’s townhouse, and the closer they got the more amazed Anne became. When they finally stepped into the front hall, taking their places in line to go upstairs to be greeted by their host and hostess, her eyes widened at the magnificence of the women around her. The satins and silks, the diamonds and rubies and sapphires, the elegantly curled hair … it was overwhelming for a girl who had been brought up at Grex.
To maintain her confidence Anne reminded herself that none of these people came from so old or distinguished a family as hers. She owed it to her ancestors to put on a brave face, and when Lady Moresack introduced her to Lady Althorpe, Anne smiled naturally and dipped into a graceful curtsy.
“So pretty,” the Vicountess murmured to her aunt.
“Thank you,” Aunt Julia replied.
Jeremy passed through the line after them, and then they were at the ballroom door. Anne halted at the top of the three marble steps that led down to the polished wood floor, and looked around. The orchestra was seated opposite to the stairs, and every bit of space that was not taken up by the dance floor was filled with people. “Anthea’s invitations are never refused,” Aunt Julia said into her ear, “All the most distinguished members of the ton are here tonight.”
“And still more are coming,” Anne said, glancing toward the crowd that had been behind them in line.
Aunt Julia put her hand on Anne’s elbow and steered her down the stairs. “Come along. I see some people I want to introduce you to.”
It was about halfway through the evening, and Anne was standing with Jeremy, his friend Martin Abbey and Martin’s sister Margaret. They were all a little flushed from dancing and they were sipping champagne, a beverage Anne had never tasted before. She had enough sense not to tell the others such a thing, though, and wrinkled her nose a little at the bubbles. She didn’t like it, but she wasn’t going to say that either.
“Do you like to ride?” Margaret Abbey asked Anne. “It’s very fashionable to be seen in Hyde Park in the late afternoon. It might be fun to get up a small party.”
Anne thought of her beloved old mare left at home. “I love to ride, but I don’t have a mount here in London.”
“You could ride my mother’s horse,” Jeremy said. “He’s a grand old fellow and she hardly ever takes him out. She prefers to drive.”
“I couldn’t possibly take your mother’s horse.” Anne spoke with astonishment that he should even think such a thing. She would never dream of allowing an unknown person to ride her precious Molly. And in the city! She said, “For all you know, I could be a dreadful rider who would bang on his back and hang on his mouth.”
“Are you a dreadful rider?” Jeremy asked.
“Of course I’m not,” she snapped. “But you only have my word for it.”
Jeremy was opening his mouth to reply when a ripple of interest went around the ballroom. Anne noticed that people were looking toward the stairs, and she turned to see what was drawing so much attention.
A slender, black-haired man stood on the top step, his eyes sweeping the room as if he were a general assessing a battlefield. “Who is that?” Anne asked Jeremy in a lowered voice.
“It’s Daniel Dereham,” Jeremy replied in a whisper. “What is he doing here?”
“I thought he was up north building a factory,” Martin said, his voice lowered as well.
“But what can he be doing here?” Jeremy said. “Lady Althorpe, of all people, would never allow anyone like him inside her kitchen let alone her ballroom.”
“Yes, but Lord Althorpe is one of the leaders of the Whigs in parliament,” Martin said. “He and a few other men have been pushing for social reform for the poor. Apparently Dereham is going to pay more money for fewer hours of work than other cotton mills, and the Manchester mill owners are furious. My father says a factory like that is only going to contribute to the general social unrest in the country. But men like Althorpe and some of the other Whigs in parliament are supporting Dereham’s ideas.”
Lord Althorpe had joined the young man at the top of the stairs, and now the two were coming down onto the ballroom floor. They halted under a chandelier, the newcomer’s black hair glinting under the lights. As Anne watched, several other men began to gravitate in the direction of the new arrival. Lady Althorpe stepped up beside her husband, and, her back rigid with disapproval, gave Dereham her hand.
“Lady Althorpe looks as if touching him is some sort of torture,” Anne said.
“He’s not one of us,” Jeremy said. “He’s one of those nabobs who went out to India and came home with a fortune. There are all sorts of wild stories about how he became so rich, but no one knows for sure. He’s a bit of a mystery.”
“Goodness,” Anne said.
The music started up again, and Martin asked Anne to dance.